


The Next Best Thing (Is The Wrong Thing)

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward, First Time, M/M, SO MUCH AWKWARD, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anything that can go wrong, will."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Best Thing (Is The Wrong Thing)

**Author's Note:**

> A supremely awkward fill for [this prompt](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/6131.html?thread=5397491#t5397491).

Stiles gasps, fingers unsteady and uneven as they grab and scrape for purchase on the expanse of Derek’s shoulders. The leather is slick with sweat from his own clammy palms, but he manages to bunch enough fabric under his fingers to haul Derek closer and deepen the kiss. It’s clumsy and hot, too much teeth, slick and messy and his head hits the wall behind him just a bit too hard. Actually, hard enough that he sees stars, and not the sexy oh my god I just came in my pants kind. More like the kind that could lead to a concussion.

Stiles shoves at Derek’s face until he breaks the kiss and stumbles back.

“Too much, head, wall, ow.” Stiles rubs the knot on the back of his head, tender with pain, and steps away. “Besides, we can’t exactly get it on in the kitchen. I think that’d kind of, y’know, suck.”

Derek smiles, that small kind of rude smile that Stiles has come to love, and nods. “C’mon.” He extends a large palm to Stiles and guides him to the stairs. Stiles curls his own long fingers around it, relishing the comfort and the warmth, and follows happily, excitedly.

Derek’s hands move to his waist, and they climb the stairs together, stealing kisses and laughing against each others mouths. Until Derek takes a step wrong and they tumble back down, a mes sof limbs and growls and shouts.

Stiles blinks, face-to-face with Derek. “Thanks for, you know, shielding me with your wall of muscle.”

“Anytime.” Derek groans, shaking an stretching out his own injuries, uncurling his arms from where they’d wrapped protectively around Stiles. “Sorry.”

Stiles laughs. “It’s okay. We’re still doing this, right?”

Derek sits up, then helps Stiles to stand. “You still want to?”

“Of course.” He tugs Derek in for a brief kiss. “First times are  _never_  perfect. It’s half the fun.”

Derek grins. “After you.” He grunts, and Stiles obeys. They both take the stairs two at a time, though they keep their hands to themselves until they reach the safety of Stiles’ bedroom.

“I’m excited,” Stiles says, because it’d be foolish to think he could keep his mouth shut at a time like this—especially at a time like this. “I mean, if you told me a year ago I was about to lose my virginity to Derek Hale I might’ve had some really nasty things to say to you.” He cups Derek’s face and they fall onto the bed, sans socks and shoes but still mostly clothed.

“And now?”

Stiles grins fondly. “I can’t think of anything I want more. Except maybe a lifetime supply of curly fries.”

Derek bites on his ear a little harder than necessary, but all it does is draw a broken moan from Stiles’ slick lips. They fall silent for a while, after that, simply kissing and touching and holding as they slowly rut against each other on the bed. It’s not much different than what they usually do. Derek mouths over Stiles’ pulse point greedily tasting each pulse and each surge of energy.

“Derek,  _Derek_.” Stiles keeps, yanking at the leather jacket and his own hoodie. They pull apart to strip, and when Derek goes for the hem of his shirt, it all goes awry. Again. Somehow, he gets stuck—Stiles, to this day, can’t say how—and ends up toppling off the bed, twisted in his shirt.

Stiles would laugh except Derek ends up tearing off the shirt, ripping it into shreds, an alpha-growling at it. So Stiles is pretty sure he saved his own life by not laughing.

“This isn’t going well.”

“Thanks for the boost of confidence, big guy.”

Derek looks pained as he sits beside Stiles. “Sorry.”

Stiles combs his fingers through Derek’s mussed hair and kisses his cheek. “You’re nervous too, right?”

“Well one of us has to be.” He replies, smiling softly.

“You are literally the biggest softie I have ever met.” Stiles pulls him closer and kisses, nips at his lips. “C’mon, let’s get this show on the road.”

Derek nods and kisses him deeper, pushes him back and pins him to bed by sheer weight, no force. Stiles lets him, and holds him in return. Derek pushes at the bottom of Stiles’ shirt until they work it off together, tossing it into the room with the rest of the mess. Their hands, in tandem, fall next to the belts and buttons of each others jeans.

“We’re really doing this, oh my god, I’m gonna lose my virginity.”

“Not if you keep talking.”

“You love my endless chatter.” Stiles counters, wriggling out of his jeans as Derek does the same. This passes without incident, and they fall together again clad in nothing but their underwear, skin electric against skin.

“I do.” Derek replies, hushes. He presses against Stiles, his cock half hard in his briefs as he ruts onto Stiles’ own dick. Stiles moans into his mouth, and Derek swallows it, tasting Stiles’ mouth and claiming it.

“C’mon, I want it—!”

“Patience.”

Stiles laughs, watching as Derek sits up and peels down his boxer-briefs, shuffling until they’re at his knees. Derek moves next to the waistband of Stiles’ own boxers, white and covered in bright red hearts.

“You are such a dork.” Derek says, voice tender and fond in a way only Stiles gets to hear.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, words falling short, and lifts his hips to help Derek peel the obnoxious undergarments off.

“You’re sure.”

“I’m positive.” Stiles answers, curling and leaning to dig in his bedside table. “Are  _you_  sure?” He asks, the thought striking him. “We don’t have to, if  _you_ don’t want to—just, I mean, just cuz you’re the adult doesn’t mean you have to do this. I’m not gonna, I’m the  _last_  person who should judge you for wanting not to do it or for wanting to wait or, or anything.” Stiles, in his rant, let the lube and condoms fall to the bed in favor of speaking directly to Derek, voice firm and eyes intense.

Derek grins, and laughs softly. “I do want this, with you. Us.”

Stiles nods. “Awesome, great. That’s totally awesome.”

Derek picks up the lube. He stills. “Should I—or do you want to—?”

“I’d like it if you did.” Stiles says honest. He lies back and plants his feet, firm and far apart, enough so that Derek can kneel between them. He slicks up his fingers and lowers them. “I—I’ve thought about this.” He mumbles. “Got off on it, fing—did it to myself.”

Derek lets out a strangled noise, and pushes one finger in.

Stiles’ back arches and he squirms to bat at Derek’s hand, “too much! Too much!”

Derek curses and pulls out. “Maybe you should.” He laughs in the face of Stiles’ pout. “I don’t mind watching you.”

Stiles’ face flushes pink, and Derek leans forward to chase the blush with his lips—except Stiles sits up to meet him halfway and their noses collide instead. Stiles swears, and tries to bring a hand to his throbbing nose and ends up whacking Derek upside the face instead.

“Sorry!”

Derek growls and shakes off the pain, it goes as quickly as it came. “It’s okay.”

Stiles scrubs a hand over his face. “This kind of sucks.”

“You inspire such confidence.” Derek mimics, sitting up.

“I can’t help it!” Stiles retorts.

“Maybe—?”

“We are doing this.” Stiles declares, plucking the lube from Derek’s sticky hands and lying back again. “Watch a pro at work.”

He stretches down a hand and presses one finger at his entrance; unlike Derek, in his haste, pushes the digit in slowly, tauntingly, carefully. He hums with the feels of being filled, moment by moment, the stretch growing and adjusting with each small push.

A few minutes of hushed, labored breathing pass; Stiles watches Derek. Watches the way his eyes grow heavy and how his tongue laps at his own lips in an imitation of something  _lewd_. Stiles moans and presses in with two fingers, not rushing but not as slow as he usually allows himself to be. It’s worth it for the way Derek inhales sharply, clutching at Stiles’ thighs and watching like he can’t bear to miss a minute.

“Like what you—fuck!” Stiles’ whole body rocks, jerks, as he shakes out his leg, “a fucking—cramp—leg cramp, are you  _fucking_  serious?” He moans in distress and extends his leg. He calms only when Derek’s strong fingers massage the tension away, when the cramp leaves nothing but an ache, fading fast.

“It’s like the universe is trying to tell us something.” Derek remarks, stroking his fingers along Stiles’ skin.

“And I’m nothing if not stubborn.” Stiles bites back, spreading his legs again and moving faster, harder, moaning louder and biting his lip to keep too many words from spilling out. “I think—I think you should touch yourself.”

Derek grins and reaches for his dick, fingers still slippery from before as he wraps them leisurely around. “You look good like this,” he says in a shaky voice, “spread out, for me.”

Stiles nods, feeling lax and comfortable in his skin. “M’glad you think so.” He flashes his best attempt at a coy smile and it earns him and groan from Derek. “Think you’re ready for all this?” He teases, fingers still moving, intent though clumsy in their movements.

“You’re sure.”

“More than I’ve ever been.” Stiles agrees. He withdraws his fingers and settles back. Derek grabs a condom and tears it open with ease.

Derek doesn’t voice it, because they’ve discussed it before, but it’s been a while. So when he fumbles and tears the latex as well, Stiles doesn’t laugh at him or mock him for it. The next one, though, earns him a cheeky smile. The third has Stiles stretching himself again, keeping himself filled but dissatisfied.

“Having a problem?” Stiles asks, not unkind but definitely impatient.

“I—sorry, I don’t—?” He messes with a fifth condom and manages to roll it on without tearing, ripping, or shredding it. They both sigh in relief. “Ready?”

“If you ask me that one more time I’m kicking you out, naked.”

Derek growls, but it’s all in fun. He takes his cock by the head an guides it to Stiles’ hole, nudging until he slips inside, pressing in slowly, carefully. “You okay?”

“Ye-yeah, keep going.”

They heave identical, shuddering breaths, until Derek bottoms out.

Derek opens his mouth to ask, but Stiles tells him, “it’s okay,” before he can. Derek balances on his knees, gains leverage for thrusting and moves slow, tender, cradling Stiles’ body and kissing at his neck and shoulders.

Stiles gasps, fighting for air as though he’s been holding his breath. Which, Derek thinks, maybe he has, it’s a Stiles thing to do. Stiles grips Derek by the hair, and tugs him, pulls at his hair with a blissed grin. “This is really happening oh my god. This is—you feel—it’s good, it’s weird but it’s good—are you?”

“Yeah, I’m.” Derek nods wildly and bites his own tongue before continuing. “You feel so—I can’t even begin—I love you—” It tumbles out of his mouth, but it’s no less honest. Stiles laughs, sweet and giddy and tangled up in moans.

“Me too, I love you too.” He kisses Derek, letting himself feel the full movement of Derek inside him, a firm heat, strong and grounding much like Derek himself.

They move together, sharp and precise though still painstakingly awkward. But, Stiles knows and Derek knows they wouldn’t change it.

Not even as their thrusts and rutting pick up speed, not even as Stiles announces he’s about to come embarrassingly early, not even when he _does_ , right as Stiles’ father opens the door, shotgun cocked.


End file.
